


Protopigs

by TheWritingMustache



Category: Assassin's Creed, Prototype (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Obsessive Behavior, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Platonic Soulmates, ProtoCreed, Toxic friendship, Wet Dream, twin telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMustache/pseuds/TheWritingMustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue is the color of love. Blue is the color of your soulmate's eyes when you look into them for the first time. Blue is the color you wish you could see instead of the red of blood on your hands when everything comes crashing down around you and no matter how hard you try, red is all you're gonna see. [AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desmond - Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Oh good lordy what in the hell am I writing now. I can never have too many ongoing projects at once, now can I? Well ladies and germs, this is exactly what you think it's going to be. This is going to be based off the play and movie, Disco Pigs, created by Enda Walsh. Never heard of it, look it up, give it a watch. But if you don't wanna spoil this story, then don't, I don't care what you do. But enough of that, time to start reading.

They say that finding your soulmate is the most romantic thing in the world. They say that having a soulmate is downright romantic, that it's perfect, who could ask for more? Sometimes your soulmate isn't someone you're in love with in that romantic sense. You can have a platonic soulmate, just someone who's in your life and you can't imagine it without them because then what would your world be like if they're not in it?

My soulmate and I, met each other the day we were born. We were born in the same hospital, at the same moment as each other. We were put in cribs right next to each other in the nursery, and that's how we met. Screaming, crying little mounds of pink flesh, trying out our lungs for the first time. What else could we do? Here we were, in this strange new world full of bright lights and loud noises and new smells, and as a newborn baby, it can be pretty overwhelming.

And you just feel so alone. You know your mother's not there, you know you can't hear her voice echoing through the walls. Everything is is open and terrifying, and all you wanna do is just scream about it. Scream, and scream, and scream. And it's exactly what I did my crib in that nursery. Screamed and cried until my lungs felt like they were gonna give out. And I only stopped…When I heard him.

We could hear each other between wails, this sound so similar to ourselves, but unable to figure out just where it was coming from. But we could hear each other, and that was enough for us. We quieted down, trying to figure out where the other was. When it got too quiet, one of us would start crying again, scared that whoever it was, they were gone.

I know it sounds crazy, and it's gonna keep sounding crazy, cause that's what defines our life. Crazy. Crazy that one of us thought to just turn his head to the side, and bam, there he was. For the first time ever, my brown eyes met his blue, and we were just set. We looked at each other, we did, we really did. Made those weird baby gurgles at each other.

And now the really, really crazy part of it; we reached out for each other. We did, I swear to God and back we did. Reached out, and held hands. I can't make this up, none of this I can. We held hands, and never let go after that.

Allow our story to escalate.

Turns out, we were neighbors. We live in one of those tiny towns where, it's tiny in the sense of, everything is pushed together incredibly close. So close, the houses touch each other. And that was our house. His house was sandwiched right next to mine. Our bedrooms? Right next to each other. We figured that out when were little kids, when we found matching holes in the wall. There's a space, just wide enough to fit a man's hand through it. For the two of us, as small as were, we could get our arms through it up to the elbow, no problem.

So we asked our moms to push the beds to that one wall. We hid that hole from them, covered it up with whatever we could. Or, well, as well as we could hide that hole at the age of six. They all probably know it's there, they probably don't care. They never really got in the way of your friendship, but looking back, sometimes I wish they did.

Every night we would climb into bed, uncover that hole, sticks our hands though it, and fall asleep that way. And we won't let go. Sometimes we don't hold hands, but in the morning, you can bet our fingers are laced together when we wake.

And every night, we say the same thing to each other.

I say, "Goodnight, Alex"

And he'll say, "Goodnight, Desmond"

I'l tell him, "Sweet dreams"

He'll say "You too" back to me. And then he'll add, "I love you"

And I never fail to say "I love you too" back.

It's just been our thing the whole time we've known each other, the whole time we've been alive. Couldn't really ask for more. To us, our lives were perfect, the two of us together. Not even friends, but like brothers. The closest brothers you'll ever damn see. We did everything together. It wouldn't feel right if we didn't. We were the thicker than thieves, the two peasiest in the pod, peanut butter to jelly, two fingers caught in a Chinese finger trap. I couldn't get rid of Alex if I tried, not that I ever did.

We just complemented each other so well. We only had each other. Had no other friends. No one could possibly replace Alex, there was no one else in the world that was like Alex. He needed me. I'll be real, he couldn't make friends with a paper bag no matter how hard he tried. We attempted once or twice, make other friends. No one really liked us though. They just didn't _get it_ like we did. So we stopped trying, we only needed each other anyway. We didn't need other people in the way of that.

That was our though process for the longest time. Looking back, I can see now just how fucked up our relationship was. How controlling and obsessive it was. How we shut others out. The damage we did to ourselves. How we couldn't escape each other, but we'll always find a way. He _always_ found me. Sometimes I wish he never bothered. But I can't change the past, not at this point. The only thing I can do, is reflect on it, and learn from it.

My name is Desmond Miles, and shit it the fan right before our seventeenth birthday.


	2. Desmond - The Meeting

Alex was crazy. Like really crazy. The dangerous kind of crazy. I always knew he was. Just, the things he would talk about, the way he would do things…It made sense afterwards. How obsessive he was. How unhinged he got. How _lost_ he was inside his own head and he didn't know the way out because the way out accepting a reality he didn't want to deal with. The only reality that mattered was me. I was his reality. I kept him grounded, in control, kept him on this level of existence. He needed me.

But he was so smart. Fucking brilliant really. If he wasn't so focused on me, if he wasn't so insane, he could have really done some incredible things. Alex was a scientist at heart. An inventor. An innovator. There was nothing he just didn't understand right away. He was taking Trigonometry as a sophomore in high school, calculus as a junior. Physics, chemistry, anatomy, all AP classes. He was the best student ever in that regard. If he wasn't such a little shithead with as many detentions and suspensions as he did straight As, schools would have been throwing scholarships at him left and right next year when we were gonna be seniors.

And trust me, Alex got in trouble a lot.

Trouble was practically his middle name (which, it wasn't, it was Joseph). And by extension, I guess it was mine too. Alex was a little too smart for his own good. Like a true scientist, he always had a hypothesis, an experiment to play out, some sort of conclusion to reach. His experiments were usually sick pranks on other people, like my classmates and my own father. And I never hesitated to help him, or to follow along with it, because what else could I do?

I was too ensnared in that trap, so unable to tell him no, there was nothing I couldn't deny him. I was wrapped around his finger and I wasn't smart enough to see it until it was too late.

It was one of those pranks that inevitably caught up with us, and essentially set our downfall into motion. It wasn't the actual prank itself, but just a culmination of all the pranks we had pulled, all the trouble we constantly put ourselves in.

To give some background, it was Yearbook Club who was kinda at fault with us. Er, we were at fault with. You know how there's always those sections of the Yearbook for just whatever, the Best of something. Best dressed, best smile, best personality, etc. So we submitted ourselves for Best…everything essentially. And they denied us. Even for "Best Friends" they weren't gonna give us. Which, understandably, pissed us off. Like, I was legitimately mad. It didn't help our case as it is that no one in the fucking school liked us (okay not everyone, but Yearbook were not fans of ours), but that didn't mean they could just exclude us like that.

So we retaliated. I just wanted to complain to a teacher, but Alex pointed out that it wouldn't be as satisfactory if we didn't handle it ourselves. And even today, I still agree with him on that part. So what we did was took pictures of ourselves making goofy faces. Then we made couple hundred copies of those pictures. Then we cut out our faces and pasted them on top of everything in the Yearbook room. There wasn't a spot in that room where we weren't.

And it was _glorious_. So glorious, some of the Yearbook guys hunted us down at lunch and we ended up in a fist fight with them. Alright now that I'm thinking about it, it might have been the fight that really got us into trouble and not plastering our faces all over the Yearbook room. Or maybe it just helped escalate. Regardless of what it was, the school's administration had had enough of our shit (even though we felt strongly in the right), and weren't gonna put up with it anymore. So they called our parents, and that little meeting kinda went something like this;

 

* * *

 

 

William and Hannah Miles sat in the principal's office for the umpteenth time that year alone. Sitting next to them, with her young daughter on her knee, sat Alicia Mercer, also there for the umpteenth time herself. The three of them were not new to this situation in the slightest, it seemed like they were always in an office, a classroom, a somewhere that held someone from the school giving them troubled looks and ready to explain just what mayhem their sons had caused this time.

"Enough is enough" the school principal, Dr. Warren Vidic had declared.  "In the whole time I have been the head administrator at this school, never had I ever had the displeasure of having the same pair of boys in my office at least twice a week as I have with your sons

"I have had them in here for vandalism, for violence against teachers and students, disregard for authority, the list could go on. They have been barred from sports, clubs, dances, sports games, any sort of extracurricular activity we can think of. Ms. Mercer, if your son wasn't such an important asset to our school's testing scores, I would have had been expelled within the first semester of his school career here"

Which is all nothing new to the three parents. They all knew just how problematic their sons were. They had learned long ago that promising better behavior out of them was not going to fix anything. That no matter how many detentions they had to serve, how many suspensions plaque their records, they just never shaped up, never tried to walk the straight line. The three parents just nodded their heads like they always did.

This time, there was a second man standing next to Dr. Vidic. A man that introduced himself as Robert Cross, the school's psychologist.

"Mr. and Mrs. Miles, Ms. Mercer" he had said to them. "Your sons are genuinely good students, and individually nice boys. But when they're together, all of that quickly seems to go south as you're all very well aware of"

And oh, what weren't they aware of?"

"Ms. Mercer" Cross continues. "Your son Alex, he hasn't been tested for anything has he? I ask because while he's a brilliant student, his behavior is extremely worrisome and has proven to be quite a danger to his peers…"

Alicia Mercer shakes her head. "Never been able to afford to" she answers. "Not that he'd ever agree to any sort of testing to begin with. He's smart enough to realize when he's being found out"

(Alicia Mercer, I've known my entire life, and I've never met a more tired woman. She had every right to be of course, learning right from the start that no matter what she did, she couldn't control her wild, dangerous son from becoming more frightening and sociopathic than he was at any given moment. She never really punished him, never tried to keep him in line, because every time she did, it really didn't end well. Even when we were small and little, Alex was a master of mind games that dealt more damage than a fist could.)

"Mr. and Mrs. Miles" Cross says. "Your son, Desmond. Desmond is an honestly wonderful young man. Very friendly, very talkative, very bright. He has a bright future ahead of him, I do think he'll do well after high school"

At this, the Miles parents beam, because it's not often they get such praise about their son. Anything about him, it's usually lumped together with Alex, and it's easy for them to forget they did raise a rather nice son and not the delinquent he so often is associated as.

"I want to help them" Cross tells the three parents. "And I think the only way possible to really turn them around is to separate them"

The room goes quiet after that, save for small gurgles and giggles heard from the young Mercer sibling sitting in Alicia's lap. What Cross suggests is unfathomable, insane, completely unheard of. Never before had they attempted to separate the two boys, twins in every way imaginable save for blood. Wherever Alex goes, Desmond will follow. Wherever Desmond goes, Alex will obsessively trail behind. They share almost everything, a birthday, a home, a _mind_. 

It's not like the thought had never occurred to them, oh how they wish those two could be separated without incident. But they know, that mostly on the Mercer boy's part, that he can't last a day without his twin by his side. Yet, here is their golden opportunity, and so they listen to what is suggested.

"There's a fantastic boarding school only a few hours away we'd like to send young Mr. Miles to" Dr. Vidic says, pulling out a pamphlet for the school and placing it down on his desk in front of the Miles parents. "He should be able to concentrate on his grades, extra activities to keep him focused, more _stable_ young people to associate with. Colleges should be more likely to look at his applications this way"

And that is fine for William and Hannah. Cross pulls out a pamphlet of his own and hands it to Alicia Mercer.

"This is a school up north" Cross explains. "It specializes in troubled youth who need a more specific environment to learn and grow in. We think Alex will do well there"

And Alicia laughs as she reads the pamphlet over, her daughter prying it from her hand to shove into her mouth.

"You want to institutionalize him" Alicia laughs. "Have him locked up where he can't hurt anyone"

"Alicia!" Hannah Miles cries in shock.

"Oh come on, it's what everyone has been wanting for years" Alicia chuckles. "I mean, if the school is so willing" and she looks Cross in the eye. "And if they feel so daring, they're more than welcome to him"

And so a decision, is reached.

 

* * *

 

 

I wouldn't know about this for weeks to come. What was I to think about some parent teacher conference? They happened all the time. I just knew that night after dinner, my dad was gonna sit me down and chew me out for being such a shithead. You know, goddammit Desmond why can't you just behave for once? Why do you keep getting into these fights? Why can't you do anything by yourself? Swear to god Desmond, if you don't shape up soon, so help me…

Same old same old. Literally nothing new. Because then after dinner, Alex and I would just do what we do best, live up to our names.

And our names are Trouble.


	3. Alex - The Party

This trouble we so love to put ourselves in…I wouldn't call it trouble so much as I would instead, simply refer to it as, lording over the pathetic, stupid creatures of this earth that we're forced to be a part of. Too long of a thought to follow? Basically, we like to remind others just how fragile their existence is compared to ours. And since it's so fragile, they need to acknowledge our greatness as much as they can before we inevitably wipe the slate clean.

There was a party tonight that we obviously had to show up to. The beautiful thing about living in such a small town, is that whenever someone from school had a party, it was just general politeness to let anyone come to it. Freshman, sophomores, juniors, seniors, didn't matter. Everyone comes to the party, even the assholes no one likes. Which includes us.

"Desmond" I only have to say aloud, standing in my room, closet doors wide open. "What are we wearing tonight?"

"I dunno" I can hear some say, picture him shrugging as he stares into his own closet. "What's clean for you?"

"Everything, I did my laundry a couple days ago" I say, and then I sigh loudly. "Desmond, have you really not…

"…No?"

I groan. "I'm doing your laundry tomorrow, because you're fucking ridiculous"

"Alex, please"

I swear, if it wasn't for me, his life would be an unorganized mess. He would get nothing done without me, I'm more of his mother than his actual mother is. I don't know why she thinks she can leave Desmond to his own devices like so and expect a positive end result. I think she forgets she's raising a teenage boy, and if it wasn't for me, her time as a mother would be significantly more difficult.

"How about this" Desmond starts. "I have a clean dress shirt. And I have a clean vest. Wanna just do that?"

"What color?"

"Navy"

"I have black"

"Close enough right?"

I close my eyes and hum in frustration. No, it's not exactly, and I wish he'd realize that.

"Alright, alright calm down. If I wear a tie with it, will you forgive me?"

I nod, yes, just slightly.

"Okay then, let's do that"

This wouldn't be a problem if he stayed on top of things like fresh clothing, but that's a lecture for me to give him at another time. We dress, with me reminding him to his charge his phone, make sure he has his wallet, don't forget his keys, wear the nice cologne tonight, everything he would probably forget if I didn't tell him.

And in turn he reminds me, brush my hair, clean my glasses, try and be _nice_ tonight, don't send anyone to the hospital, keep my hands to myself, yadda yadda. Things I'm not sure why he's lecturing me on, but I nod my head and say yes anyway because if I don't then he won't go out with me tonight, and I won't give him the satisfaction of hearing me beg.

But we're dressed in no time, "See you downstairs" is exchanged between us, and we head down. I pass my little sister, Dana, in the living room. She squeals her nickname for me, "Allie!" and holds up  one of my old action figures to me. I suppose I can indulge her for once, and I pluck the toy from her tiny hand and toss back across the room, and I leave her there as she squeals more ad claps her hands.

Desmond and I open are doors at the same time, and at the same time we step out the door and close it behind us. There's a small wall that divides our yards, and we walk along it in perfect sync to the end where there are two metal fences. We open them at the same time, and close them at the same time. We join hands and make our way to Desmond's car.

This is how it's always been. And how it always will be. Others could only wish they had someone else in their life like I did with Desmond. A perfect better half. And I want people to be jealous. Let envy consume them before they all go away, and it's just the two of us in our perfect world…

We're sitting in his car, pulling out of the driveway when I reach up and over to slide a finger along the right side of his lips. It happened about a mouth ago, when we got into a particularly nasty incident that left a long cut over his perfect lips. It was since healed over, I just liked feeling it now. He bats my fingers away because he's still not used to it, still doesn't understand my fascination with it.

"I keep telling ya to not mess with it" he snorts at me, and I just smile at him.

"But I like it" I tell him. "It makes you look so roughish"

That always makes him laugh. I used to hate it, because I thought it marred his perfect face. But now I loved it, it suited him so well. My prince, throwing himself into the fray to come out victorious.

Before we attend this party, we just drive down to one of the local connivence stores. It feels like proper etiquette, to at least come to a party with an addition to the drinks selection. And we know the best place to get some finer liquor without the hassle of I.Ds and such.

Shaun Hasting's groan of agony is audible from across the store the moment we walk in. Same grade as us, in a couple of our classes. His hate for me burns hotter than the hell he claims I crawled out of. Shaun's a dangerous one, always telling my dear Desmond blasphemous lies about me, about us, about the world. So I always make it a point to remind Mr. Hastings of his place.

"What the bloody hell are you two twits in here for?" Shaun scowls at us as we approach the counter. "You two aren't allowed in here and you know it"

We smile politely at him, because it's important for two princes to maintain a certain level of civility and politeness in the face of hostility. This exchange has happened far too many times for us to count, and we all know exactly how it's going to turn out.

"Come on now Shaun" I say to him patiently. "We have an appointment to keep. We only request one bottle of you. The faster you comply, the faster you get out of your hair"

Shaun's scowl only deepens.

"Look, Shaun, I'll even pay for it" Desmond offers. "So uh, the usual please"

"I don't think you idiots understand" Shaun says, and I can feel my cheek twitch. "Every time…every damn _time_ I let you two get away with a bottle, something goes wrong within six hours after you leave this store" and he gives me a certain look that makes my smile falter. "You two need to leave, now, before someone sees you here and calls the goddamn co-AHPS"

My hand shot out for his shirt collar without me realizing it. And I'm yanking him down to slam into the counter without so much as a single thought in my head. Because how dare he threaten us like that. How dare he just not comply like so. Shaun simply gets too testy sometimes, which he really shouldn't, not with two kings-to-be.

"We're not going to play with you tonight" I growl. "Just give us what we want before a simple bottle of vodka isn't the only thing that needs to be payed for"

The frames on his face looked new. Especially considering I broke the last ones only a mere…Three weeks ago? His optometrist must _love_ me. Desmond is prying my hand away from Shaun, pulling me away in general, getting me away from him.

"What did I tell you" Desmond hisses at me. "What did I fucking tell you?"

"But we're not there yet" I say quietly, but I can feel the disappointment radiating off him. So I stand back, like a good boy, let him handle this. This isn't the first time this has also happened, where my body moves on its own accord and someone else ends up getting hurt. It's why I really never should go anywhere without Desmond, he's the only one who can reign me back in without further incident.

We don't leave with the vodka like I wanted, but with a simple pack of beer, close enough. Desmond lectures me in the car again as we drive to the party. I hate making him angry. All I want is for him to feel happiness and love towards me, not anger and bitter disappointment. I stay silent the whole ride there, and only relax when his hand finds mine, and holds it tight.

 

* * *

 

We could feel the vibration of the music before we even walked up to the front door. It feels like everyone from school is here, or at least our junior class and the senior class combined. Desmond and I are clearly two of the better dressed persons here. We get plenty of stares as we parade ourselves through the house to the kitchen, and while we're not given a warm welcome, the party's host accepts our gracious offering of alcohol, and tells us to help ourselves.

Desmond takes it upon himself to meet and greet everyone he sees, everyone he knows personally. It's only because the others are under the influence already that they act so delighted to see him, shake his hand, pound their fists against his. For this portion of the night, I am his shadow, content to stand just behind his shoulder. Red cups are constantly being pushed into our hands, not all of them we drink (especially since one of us needs to be sober enough to drive home later).

I'm not a social drunk. I'm not a social person to begin with. The night, to me, becomes a whirlwind of colors and sounds and people and eventually I have to sit down just to get my head back on straight. Why I drink, i'm never really sure. I know I'm a dangerous little drunk, my poor impulse control becoming absolutely nonexistent. I'm an absolute terror when I'm alone as well.

Just that somewhere along the way, I lose Desmond. I'm not sure where to find him, but my mind forces my body forces to seek him out, to reclaim him, put him back in my presence and back at my side where he belonged. Which mostly involved me sliding along the walls until I reached the living room where everyone was dancing.

It was a slower song, meant for long, sensual dances between partners, dimmed lights and all. Leaning against the wall, staring out on to the floor…All I had to do was close my eyes and concentrate. I turned my head to the right, opened my eyes, and there he was, across the room. I could see him quickly glance once in my direction, but otherwise his focus was on the girl who's waist his arms were around.

My fuzzy mind debated with itself then. Do I go rip her away from him and reclaim him? Or do I sit and wait, and let him come to me, because he'll always come back to me. I supposed I eventually decided I'd wait, not wanting to earn his ire once more this evening. I push myself off the wall, retrieving a glass of water or a soda was my new task at hand. I never succeeded as someone dimwit barreled into me, grabbing my arms and shoulders for support.

"Doo, I'm sho' shorry" the dimwit apologizes in a slurred voice.

I lightly push him away, but he holds back on fast.

"Wait- Hey baybay, heeey" and a large, stupid drunken grin spreads across his face. I scowl in disgust at him. "Lemme make it uh' to ya" he suggests. "Less dance, yeaah?"

"Release me" I snarl at him. But no, he persists, so I check him into the wall I was just leaning against. He lets out a howl of pain and crumbles. Before anyone can say a word, I am gone, taken off into some other part of the house. Eventually I end up in the far reaches of the backyard, falling onto a plastic lawn chair. I can only sit there in hopes that Desmond didn't see, that Desmond wouldn't know and get angry with me. I hate, hate, _hate_ making him mad. Anger is not a good emotion to see on his handsome face…

It's a miserable next two hours after that. The party steadily grows quieter as its attendees either pass out on the floor or in chairs, or leave to drunkenly drive themselves home. I am trapped in my chair, quietly sobering myself up as I wait for Desmond to find me. The less crowded the home and back patio become, the more concerned for him I grow. I can't feel him, and that concerns me greatly.

Desmond and I, we've always had a special connection. Even in the most crowded of rooms, the most complex of places, no matter the distance between us, we will find each other. There is no place we can go that the other cannot get to. And we always know how the other could feeling at that moment.

But I can't feel him. Which is odd, it's so odd. I can just feel this intense amount of pressure, like a pain building behind my eyes. Now I grow even more worrisome, because something may be wrong, and I am not there by his side to aid him. I can only feel this pressure when searching for him so maybe, maybe-

The pressure is suddenly gone. It's like a wave of relief washing over me. I sit in absolute confusion. What was he doing? I decide it's time to find out. Standing is awful after being on my ass for so long. Everything just goes rushing around inside me, and it's rather appalling my body hasn't expelled the night's fun. But, I feel like the fun I should have had was lost long before I even stepped foot into the affair.

I make it through the house, back to front, only being guided by that hazy, fluttery connection left between us. I feel him before I hear him. Hear him before I see him. He is just turning away, saying goodbye to someone, when he turns, and finally notices me. He smiles, so I smile. He holds out his hand, and I reach out to take it. And Desmond pulls me close, and like that, our weaning connection reignites. 

It's all I need. To hear him, to see him, to feel him, to smell him. There's nothing more relaxing and reassuring. In such a swift gesture, two are whole again, we are complete once more. Just like we were always meant to be. "Let's go home" I whisper to him. "I need to go throw up"

And so we do.

 

* * *

 

We return home much the same way we left it. Our hands are pulled apart at the gates that we open and close at the same time. Again we walk along the wall between our yards step for step. We pause before out respective front doors.

"See you upstairs, buddy" is what Desmond always says to me.

"Upstairs" I only repeat, and we walk inside. The moments our doors close, I can hear Bill already interrogating Desmond on exactly where he has been all night, how much had he drunk, did he really drive home? I already know how this conversation will go. I stand rooted to the spot, because while I have heard this before, and while there is a wall separating us, I will not move until Desmond does.

I know the exact moment Desmond moves, beginning the climb up the stairs to the second floor, and to our bedrooms. "Bathroom, Alex" Desmond reminds me, and I sigh loudly enough for him to physically hear and I detour to the bathroom. I loosen my tie, unbutton my vest and shirt, throw them all aside. I'm suddenly reminded that we're doing laundry tomorrow. But it still wouldn't do us any good to puke over our nice clothing.

Finally getting to bed, is a small event for us. Lock our doors. Cross out another day on our calendars- only another three weeks and one day until our birthday. Almost seventeen. Another year closer to freedom. Undress, put on pajamas. Turn off the lights. Pull back the bed covers. Slide into bed, pull the covers back over. Lift up the papers we're hiding the hole with. Stick our hands though. Hold. Just like always.

"Did you have fun tonight?" I can hear Desmond murmur to me.

"As much as I could" I reply. "We could do better"

A chuckle from him, then a yawn. "Well I had fun" he mumbles. "Goodnight, Alex"

"Goodnight, Desmond" I say back.

"Sweet dreams" he says to me. To him as well I tell him.

"I love you" I never forget to say.

And he says he loves me back. 

Because of course we love each other. It's the way, it's always meant to be.


	4. Desmond - Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, this story isn't dead yet!!!!!!

I made a mistake last night. One that would inevitably put the rift between us. But I hadn't seen it as a mistake though, it couldn't be, there was just no way.

I woke up the next morning bright and early. I didn't drink as much as Alex did, and I knew he'd still be asleep with a hangover. I gently pried my hand out of his, grabbed my phone, and tiptoed out of my room and down the stairs. I was having a bowl of cereal when she texted me, saying she had a really fun time last night.

She is Lucy Stillman. Really smart, really pretty, one of the best students in our grade. And we may have fucked at the party. Let's be real, I am a teenage boy with a need to shove his dick into something, it's just who I am. And I had been interested in Lucy for a long time, and it was the best day of my life when she finally told me she liked me back.

Again, not everyone hated us in school. Well, not everyone hated _me_ , thus they could tolerate me long enough to have a nice conversation with me. And then I'd always get the same kind of compliments; Wow Desmond, you're really nice. Hey, you're actually a funny guy! Dude, you're so chill, I never knew.

Of course, when I look back, I knew the real reason why people never outright tried to befriend me. I always had Alex at my side, my little shadow. And let's just say those kids valued their lives more than they did trying to start a friendship with me. Alex had convinced me that people lied, no one actually liked me like they said they did. They were just trying to get on my good side because they were _so_ jealous of our friendship. Alex used to tell me I was so desirable, but they could't have me, I'm too good for all of them. Except him of course, I was perfect for him and only him, and I always used to believe it.

Despite all that, it didn't stop me from trying to pick girls up. Lucy wasn't my first fuck, but she was my favorite by far. Didn't regret it either, and I still don't. I had actually contemplated just straight up asking her out. But at least I was smart enough to know that that would be the worst idea in the whole world. Then on the flipside, I'd figure I'd wait until Alex could have a girlfriend of his own. We did everything together, for some reason, I always figured we'd date at the same time.

I spent my breakfast texting Lucy back and forth, mostly just making plans to meet up again, when would be a good time, me mentally devising a way to give Alex the slip again. I hated lying to him, but what he didn't know wasn't going to hurt him, and I knew there were some things I could do all by myself. I'm was sitting there texting with a soggy bowl of cereal in front of me when my father walked downstairs into the kitchen.

"Mornin', Pops" I say to him.

"Son" he nods back. "Are you done eating?"

"Uhhh, just about? Why?"

"Good. Get dressed, _we_ need to go run some errands"

And when he says that, it never means anything good. I dump my bowl in the sink and head back upstairs, still super engrossed in my conversation with Lucy. It's when I get back up into my room and I'm getting dressed is when I hear my name from the other side of the wall. I drop everything to lie down in bed and lift up the papers hiding the whole.

"Hey you" I say softly as I stick my hand through to grab Alex's hand. "Go back to sleep. I have to run out with my dad, but when I get back, I'll come take care of you, kay?"

"Kay" Alex mumbles back to me. I squeeze his hand reassuringly, and then I let go to finish getting dressed.

 

* * *

 

My dad and I don't say a word to each other as we get in the car and drive away. Which is fine with me, I found it hard at the time to talk to him. It wasn't like he ever had anything nice to say to me either. He was always bitching at me about my grades, or what was going on at school, or something about Alex. Shit I didn't care about really.

I had figured out a long time ago that I was far from the perfect son he wanted me to be. I wasn't super smart, I didn't do sports, I had no actual friends, I never brought girls home. My whole world revolved around Alex, and he fucking hated Alex. A lot of our attempted "father-son bonding time" usually involved Alex trailing right behind me, but it wasn't like my dad ever really stopped him, and just made snide remarks at him instead.

I just sat there and texted instead. Lucy was someone I liked talking to, I could have a full length discussion and conversation with her over the phone.  I was so busy talking to her, I didn't even notice that we had finally stopped outside the mall. I just got out of the car and followed my dad inside, and I didn't look up until we were in a store.

There was suitcases and bags all over the place, luggage.

"Going on a trip, Dad?" I asked.

"I'm not, but you are" he said. I looked at him confused.

"What?"

"Desmond, son" he started and turned to look at me. I gulped and shoved my phone into my pocket. Whenever my dad said that, I knew something was wrong, something I wasn't going to like was about to happen. And what he said next, it had totally thrown me for a loop.

"Son, we're sending you up North. Boarding school if you wanna call it that." he said.

"What for? Did I do something?" I asked

"Yes…and No. Son, you're not in trouble,"

Which totally meant I was in trouble.

"We're just concerned about you," Dad went on. "It's just for the rest of the school year. You'll come back for your senior year, I promise. You're not gonna get into any college with your current grades. It's just a little break from here, that's all."

I blinked and nodded. Okay, sure, that made sense.  I mean, he was right. I used to get a feeling of dread in my stomach whenever college came up. I had no idea what I wanted to do for it. I knew at the time I could never apply to any colleges Alex would apply to, I'd never get in. And I hated the thought of Alex purposely not applying to any of the better schools because he wanted to be with me, it didn't feel right. So sure, maybe this boarding school shit might help, but I would never have the grades like Alex did-

Alex.

What about Alex?

Was he coming with me? I couldn't leave him behind. We were supposed to do everything together. Dad must have noticed my crushed look, because he suddenly got a concerned but knowing expression on his face, and he had actually reached out to squeeze my shoulder.

"It's just you, son. You're the only one going to this school."

 

* * *

 

I felt miserable the rest of the time we were out. I even had to tell Lucy I was busy, couldn't talk right now. We bought the luggage and left. When we got home, my mom had some bags of clothes for me to try on, you know, something nice to wear at school, my new school. She apologized to me and basically repeated what Dad had said to me at the store. Not once did they mention what was going to happen to Alex.

I didn't say anything, just grabbed the bags and shuffled over to Alex's house. I let myself in and walked on through. Dana and Mrs. Mercer were sitting in the living room. The former squealed out "Dessy!" at me, and the latter just waved as I walked past. I shot them a smile anyway. I liked Alex's family, never could understand his apathy towards them.

I force myself to relax as I head up the stairs to Alex's room. I didn't wanna walk in feeling like a negative Nancy, he would definitely pick up on it. I creep into his room incase he's still asleep. Should have figured I'd find him on his laptop, brightness down low, him stretched out on his bed with bleary eyes.

"Hi" he says to me, closing the laptop and shoving it aside.

"Heyo," I smile back and hold up the bags. "Guess who got new clothes?"

Alex sits up and leans back against the wall as I change. Alex always had a better sense of fashion than me, so whenever I had something new to wear, I would always show it off to see if he liked it, and what he recommended as an improvement. It was kinda sad just how much influence Alex had over me, that I had to get his approval on what to wear before I actually wore it out in public.

The clothes my mom got me are surprisingly nice. I guessed that I was going to some private school, so I couldn't just dress like a normal slob like I always did there. She got me dress shirts, and ties and dorky ass vests, and I had to admit, I looked really fucking good. One particular tie I had to run into the bathroom to use the mirror to do, and I just finished dressing in there.

"So what do we think?" I ask when I walk back into Alex's room. He was on his phone while he waited, and godddamn, I'll never forget his face when he saw me. He was speechless, the way his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. I couldn't help but smirk, because okay, he saw it too, I looked fucking rockin. But I can't forget this face, because he stared at me for way too long, never took his eyes off me, didn't even blink. It was like he was looking at me for the first time all over again.

"Alex?"

That seems to snap him out his trance.

"Yeah, you look fine," he says quickly and stares back down at his phone again.

"You sure?"

"Positive, next outfit."

I had chalked it up to him just still being all hungover, and the mini fashion show went on without further incident.

If only I had know what it meant to him at that time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then from here, things begin their gradual decline story wise.


	5. Alex - Epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, things get a little bit adult. It's not sexy in the slightest. This was a fun chapter to write, but will probably be really uncomfortable to read.
> 
> Again, it's /NOT/ sexy.

My dear Desmond wasn’t the only one who had some…changes going on with him. I just simply saw how he looked in that outfit…All the outfits after…And it felt like I was looking at him through rose tinted glasses.

It was like in that moment, it finally and truly occurred to me that Desmond, my prince, oh yes, he was very handsome. He was god like, he was perfection, he was an angel fallen from heaven and he was in the form of my best friend.

And after he had left my home to run back over to his own momentarily, I lied there in bed, my throbbing headache disappearing as it was replaced with a sweet, sweet bliss. I had always known right from the absolute start that we were meant to be together forever. We were soulmates if you could. But the meaning behind it never truly weighed on me until right then.

Soulmates.

Forever.

Mine.

He was mine.

Just mine.

All mine.

My handsome prince.

For the rest of the day, it felt like he could do no wrong. We sat together, laughed together, everything that day from the comfort of my home. My chest felt so light and feathery, and my head never felt clearer. His presence alone was enough to soothe me into a harmonious state. When he finally left, it truly did feel like a hole had been ripped into my side, despite the fact he was simply putting a wall between us and nothing more.

But I needed him so badly, I don’t think he truly realized it.

That night confirmed everything though. We went to bed as per usual, and fell asleep into our respective slumbers, our hands clasped together.

My dreams finally revealed the long kept secrets floating within my conscious.

In my dream, I was there, and Desmond was there, and there was no one else. And we sat in a bright, cloudy expanse, just the two of us, as it always should be. The dream took a wonderful, beautiful turn. We embraced one another, and kissed. Kissed like two passionate lovers would, the clouds swirling around us as we did.

And we even fucked like lovers- no we made love in that dream. I had never touched another person in my life, had barely put a hand on myself in my whole almost seventeen years of existence. But I knew how sex worked, and my mind played it out to be all the more wonderful than I could have anticipated. Every thrust of his hips sent a wave of warmth into me. It was love, there was no other explanation, there was no other way my mind could describe it as.

I awoke suddenly, tripped away from my fantasy to stare up at the ceiling in the dark, my hand still tight around Desmond’s, and my cock straining against my boxers. I carefully disentangled my hand from Desmond’s to quietly slip away from the bed and retreat from my room to the bathroom.

I almost wanted to be disgusted with myself.

Almost.

I hated touching myself. What joy did it bring to me? Masturbation reminded me of those grim days when I first entered puberty, and like many young boys at the time, their dicks simply could not be controlled. A sneeze would have their dicks erect, another would have them ejaculating into their pants. It was so disgusting, and I always hated the fact that I had been one of those boys.

Even now at my age, masturbation still made me shudder with contempt. Sex had never been a fantasy for me before, I never saw the appeal of it. Yet, there was my dream, clearly telling me otherwise.

‘But no,’ my mind seemed to hiss at me. ‘Not sex, but love.’

We had made love. There was a huge difference between sex and making love. That is what I had to keep telling myself as I pulled my boxers down, and wrapped a hand around my cock. Made love, to Desmond. And I loved Desmond. Oh I loved him so much. He was my moon and stars, the sun that lit my world, the wind against my cheek, my everything, my handsome prince…

And my vile seed came spilling into my hand, and while that was off-putting, the idea that it came only when my thoughts truly strayed to Desmond.

Yes, I loved Desmond. What else could it be? I had always been in love with Desmond, and now he haunted my dreams, and thus it had to be true. I felt so foolish for not seeing it before.

I only returned to my room after I had scrubbed my hands thoroughly, and wiped off all traces of what I had done. I felt like I could not put my hand back into Desmond’s with the taint of masturbation on me. It wasn’t like I was trying to keep an air of purity around me, that ship had sailed so long ago. But I was not a sexual being, we were not sexual beings. It was fun to tease, yes, but sex was something…

Sex was something we never really discussed, but I always assumed it was something Desmond and I would wait for, and should we lose our virginities, it would be at the same time. But now, as I lied back down in bed and found Desmond’s hand though the wall, I realized what that could mean.

We could lose it together, to each other. But I would not speak of it to him quite yet. I felt I had to be sure first, of what I did not yet know. But I would soon, and when I did, then I would tell him, and he would obviously agree. He would see how clear it was in that moment, just like he always did.

And then he really would be mine.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my first fic done in 1st person point of view, so if it seems odd or off, well, I'm new at this. And clearly I'm gonna take some creative liberties with this story, but still get the basic main point of the story across. Except sporadic updates, this will be updated whenever I so please. You could get another chapter a few hours from now, or tomorrow, or a week from now, you're never gonna know. But I think you know how this story will probably, inevitably go because it's a protocreed story and it's being written by me.
> 
> So with that in mind, stick around, keep your eyes peeled, and enjoy the show.


End file.
